


A Cure for Boredom

by ani_babe93



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Don't question this it was a guilty pleasure, M/M, Tsukiyama has wonderful blowjob skills it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_babe93/pseuds/ani_babe93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukiyama's wandering around, bored out of his skull, and serendipity seems to have a plan for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cure for Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> It's been AGES since I've worked with french, so please forgive me if I'm wrong in my spellings or words or anything like that.

Boredom was boredom, and something that Tsukiyama never really enjoyed. His life was always full of excitement and wonder, and when it stagnated to an almost crawl he found himself in a very sour mood even to his closest of acquaintances. Usually this would correct itself within a day or two, leaving Tsukiyama free to terrorize the ones that considered him their 'friends' in his own strange and frankly questionable ways, but this dry spell seemed to be lasting much longer than what he was accustomed to. The city had gone quiet, the doves seeming to have found some other poor ghoul to focus their attention on, and even his involvement in the restaurant seemed to be unable to hold his attention for very long. It was disheartening, to say the least.

By some odd chance, and perhaps serendipity, his mask was damaged during a fight with another ghoul who decided it would be a good idea to encroach on the famed Gourmet's territory and take it from him. This was a very poor decision, but the bastard got in one lucky hit which shattered his mask. With a pout and a sigh he found himself standing outside a certain other ghoul's shop, taking deep, calming breaths to avoid sending himself into a frenzy of anxiety and fear. Uta was terrifying to him, even if he would never admit it, simply because of the stories he heard about the other ghoul during his younger days. But there was no way around it; he needed Uta's help for this. After another few moments of collecting himself (he was Tsukiyama Shuu, after all) he let himself in with a distinct air of confidence and superiority about him.

" _Monsieur_ Hysy, perhaps you could help me?" he asked, voice holding steady for now. "A rather brutish and unsavory ghoul decided to test his mettle against me the other night, and I'm afraid my mask was damaged. Perhaps _mon amie_ would be willing to find it in the goodness of his heart to repair it for me?" Not like he had much choice, he WAS the only one who could provide this service to others of their kind. In response Uta slowly swiveled around in his chair, eyes glancing down at the shattered object in Tsukiyama's hand. Uta said nothing, simply turned his hand palm-up in a silent request for it. Tsukiyama handed it to him, and he watched with the barest hint of amazement as black and red eyes danced across the cracks and grooves with incredible speed. The sort of speed only a master at his craft could have.

"It won't be too hard to repair," he deadpanned after just a few moments of study. He set the mask carefully over onto his desk. He then reached over into a glass jar and fished out a rather gorgeous emerald eyeball.

"Ah, _Monsieur_ Hysy, perhaps you would be willing to let me have that?" Tsukiyama blurted out. Uta froze mid-movement, mouth open in an awkward crooked shape and the eyeball gingerly clasped between two spindly fingers. Uta's eyes quickly turned to glare at his guest from the corners, and his mouth twists into a soft scowl.

"And why should I?" he snapped, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. A shiver ran down the Gourmet's spine, the dynamic between them shifting almost immediately. The fear from before shoved itself to the forefront and caused him to subconsciously puff up a bit. He stood the barest hint straighter, chest pushed out ever so slightly. "You come into my shop and ask me to fix your mask, then ask for one of my delicacies?"

"Ah... _pardonne-moi_ , I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries..." After a moment he watched Uta's face change from a look of annoyance to one of curiosity. He spun the chair around the rest of the way to properly face Tsukikyama and stared at him. For a moment he felt as though he were being appraised like one of Uta's mask designs, every detail scrutinized with immaculate precision and mentally tabbed in the mask maker's brain. Then slowly, ever so slowly, a cruel and twisted grin began spreading on his lips. Those dark and terrifying eyes then locked with his, and with absolutely no warning he found himself pinned to the wall of the shop with a tongue running along the crook of his neck towards his ear. The eyeball was still between Uta's fingers like a marble clutched in the hands of an excited child. " _M-Monsieur_ , what are you-"

"Quiet." Tsukiyama's question died on his tongue, the fear overtaking curiosity. This was completely unlike Uta, a far cry from the normally calm ghoul who owned the shop and frequented Itori's bar. A hand began crawling slowly up his side, pushing his jacket out of the way and tugging at his dress shirt. "Pure silk...wouldn't expect any less of you." Tsukiyama began to speak, to ask what the meaning of this sudden assault was, but when he felt teeth sink into the side of his neck he instead let out a confused sound of pain and pleasure. He'd had his fair share of partners, of course. Payment for hunting in his territory, and a personal decision of his that worked wonders in his favor. But this...this was different. He'd always been the one in control, he'd always been the one calling the shots and yet from the way things were progressing it seemed that the roles would be reversed and Tsukiyama himself would be left panting like a dog in heat and begging Uta to let him finally cum. An interesting change in pace.

And possibly the perfect cure for his spell of boredom. His thoughts, though, were interrupted by the luscious sounds of Uta's voice purring just beside his ear.

"Do you still want this?" he asked softly, fingers rolling the eyeball against Tsukiyama's carefully. It felt like he was being bated, having it so close to his grasp. He didn't dare act, instead choosing to stand perfectly still as he spoke.

" _Oui_ ," he said, voice only barely louder than the Uta's. "I do."

"How badly do you want it?" 

"It has such a lovely color to it...and the highlights look absolutely marve-"

"Answer me, Tsukiyama-san." Another jolt of...something shot down his spine into his feet. 

"...Very badly." That smirk came back, and Uta began rolling the eyeball across his fingers carefully just in front of his face with practiced and perfect ease.

"I don't think you want it bad enough," Uta answered, leaning forward and licking the eyeball slowly and sensually. "You didn't move to take it from me and yet I had it pressed against your fingers."

"I figured it would be in poor judgment to take it from you," Tsukiyama answered, careful not to directly point out that it was fear that paralyzed him. "You still haven't exactly given me permission."

"Ah. You're smart. Doesn't surprise me." Again Uta's tongue ran across the eyeball, and for some strange, sick, twisted, and completely plausible reason, Tsukiyama felt a slight heat spread through his body. Was he...getting aroused from this? It couldn't possibly be from Uta's display with his food, oh no.

...Or perhaps it was...

His mind reasoned that it was simply watching Uta's tongue move that caused it, the way it seemed to caress the curves and swipe across the top like a delicious lollipop. And when he began sucking on it ever so slightly, teasingly, Tsukiyama knew Uta was aware of the effect this display had on him. Perhaps it was also the rising blush in his cheeks that gave it away.

"Something bothering you, Tsukiyama-san?" The almost condescending lilt in Uta's voice was enough to temporarily break the spell over the Gourmet's brain.

"Shut it, you pervert. Will you actually fix my mask or not?" he hissed. The look of amusement in Uta's eyes died down and was instead replaced with a look of boredom.

"Yes. Of course. I expect payment, as usual."

"You know that won't be a problem, _Monsieur_ Hysy, I-"

"But I want a different sort of payment this time," Uta cut in. Again his lips curled up, twisting just a little bit more when he saw his client's face twist into one of confusion, then realization, then the barest hint of fear. "If you do good enough...I might even throw this in." Again he began rolling the eyeball along his fingers to tease him. "How does that sound?"

"Perhaps I could just pay you as usual?" he asked, voice shaking slightly. His confidence was slipping now, the fear seeping into his bones at the look he was given. He knew what Uta wanted, but he wasn't entirely prepared to give it up.

"...No. Not this time. If you want it fixed, then I'm afraid you'll have to give me the payment I want this time," Uta answered. His head tilted softly to the other side, causing his hair to shift and fall down to cover part of his face. He looked extremely handsome like that, Tsukiyama admitted. "Unless you'd rather I not fix it, and you be left with the broken mess sitting on my desk for you to fix yourself?" There was no arguing, no questioning...Tsukiyama had no choice but to give in to Uta's demands. He would never be able to repair it with the quality and beauty that Uta would be able to achieve. With a look of utter defeat the famed Gourmet hung his head and let out the faintest sigh.

"What do you want then?" he asked quietly. Again Uta remained silent, instead opting to use his hands to speak for him. He set one on the top of Tsukiyama's head to push, forcing him down onto his knees. The other waved the delicacy in front of his face again, testing him even more. His patience was wearing thin, and he was beginning to contemplate biting Uta's fingers off. But alas, he remembered the original reason he came to Uta's shop, and again he found himself a docile pet and at the other ghoul's very mercy.

"I don't think I need to explain anything else," Uta purred. He didn't; Tsukiyama was smart, as had been stated. He knew exactly what he was expected to do, and without prompting he leaned forward and began working to remove Uta's pants. They were soft, and he began to ask what they were made of and where they were from, but he heard a strange sound from above him and instead decided to turn his gaze upwards. Again he found himself being watched, and a sudden rush of embarrassment hit him.

"The more time you waist the longer it takes me to finish the repairs~," Uta chimed, grinning down at his client. Tsukiyama had been dragged from his pedestal and through the dirt, and he couldn't be more happy. The look of near disgust and deprivation in Tsukiyama's eyes only added fuel to the fire now burning in his stomach. Oh this was wonderful. To have a ghoul of such high stature in front of him, on his knees, at his disposal and willing to do whatever he decided created a delicious reaction within him. It threatened to make his hair stand on end, to be perfectly honest. A ghoul who prided himself on his superiority was groveling to him now as though HE was the greater one. As though HE was the one who had a 'pedigree' to his name.

His attention finally returned to reality when he felt a tongue brush against the underside of his cock. He'd been far too deep in his thoughts until then, but now he was devoted entirely to this vision of beauty in front of him. Beneath him, was a little more accurate right now. There was another lick, just as tentative and questioning as the other one. It seemed like he was trying to decide whether or not this was actually worth it and whether or not this was something he was remotely comfortable with. After another few nervous licks he found a warm heat enveloping the tip of his cock that made him moan softly. Huh. Interesting. Seems this ghoul knows his way around a dick. He watched with rapt attention as Tsukiyama began bobbing his head slowly, still testing the waters with this. He could tell this was actually uncomfortable for him and it only made him harder.

"Uncomfortable, Tsukiyama-san?" he asked, lips still curled up in a wicked grin. There was a scowl on the Gourmet's face that made him chuckle. "Well I'm afraid you're going to have to get over that, if you want your mask fi-hngh..." Almost to spite him Tsukiyama lurched forward and pulled half of him into his mouth, sucking and licking with much more confidence now. Maybe it was the threat of an unfinished mask, or perhaps it was just Tsukiyama wanting to get this done as soon as he possibly could; either way, it seemed to Uta that he was putting every ounce of energy into this that he could. Tsukiyama's hands were squeezing his hips, thumbs tracing along the ridges in them and making him shiver. His head was bobbing a little quicker as well.

Despite how into it he seemed, however, Tsukiyama was absolutely appalled that he was stuck in this position now. He felt dirty, like he was some commoner begging for a handout with the prince's dick in his mouth only to be brushed aside once the deed was done. He was confident, however, that this wouldn't be the case, and that he would be rewarded for this as promised. He fully intended on coming back the next day to check and see if his mask was done, just to be safe, and if Uta dallied for longer than three he would be sure to let the other ghoul know how displeased he was with this. There was an all-too familiar bitterness on his tongue and before he could stop himself he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

"Something wrong?" Uta jeered, the grin only spreading wider. In response Tsukiyama bit down on the head, pulling back a bit in confusion when he heard a low moan instead of a swear or a threat. "Keep doing that, I'll finish faster."

"You're a sick fucker, Uta," Tsukiyama hissed. Uta just chuckled, all too amused at this.

"You call me a sick fucker and yet you're the one that seems to only feed on 'the most beautiful humans,'" he returned. "Doesn't that seem a little vain? Conceited, even? That you think you're so perfect yourself that the only food suitable for you must be up to your standards?" He leaned forward, now eye-level with his client, and chuckled. "I think you're the sick fucker here. Now get back to blowing me before I lose interest in you and your mask."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Test me, and you'll see just how far I'm willing to go." The silence was tense, neither one completely willing to back down from the other. Tsukiyama knew he was right, knew that Uta wouldn't do that to him, but a small part of him reminded him of who this was. This one had a mean streak, and he had a feeling that wasn't quite put behind him yet depending on the circumstances. So, with a very loud growl to show this wasn't completely okay with him, he shoved Uta a little bit so he would straighten back up before pulling his dick back into his mouth. There was another moan of appreciation and a hand settled on the back of Tsukiyama's head. The other still held the eyeball, which he noticed was beginning to look a little dry. He started to pull away and make a comment about it when Uta shoved it into his mouth.

"H-hey! You promised that to me, why are you-" After a moment he popped it back out, covered in saliva, and kept it held daintily between his fingers.

"You're taking too long, and it just looks so delicious," he purred lowly. "You want this, don't you, Tsukiyama-san? Well I'm afraid you'll have to show me that you want it. Why don't you stop running your mouth and put it to better use, hmm? Monsieur Shuu." A look of rage crossed his features, a realization hitting him that Uta had been doing little more than mocking him. He shot forward and sank his teeth into Uta's cock deep enough to make it bleed, and the distinct and unpleasant taste of ghoul blood hit his tongue, along with a different bitter taste that only seemed to make it more intolerable. That sudden jolt of pain had sent a wave of pleasure running up Uta's spine and pulled his orgasm from him. When Tsukiyama pulled back to spit the blood and semen out a few stains of white hit the front of his suit, pulling a low growl out from the back of his throat.

"Bastard," he hissed, pulling the material away from his skin to try and glare a hole in the ruined colors.

"Mmm, I believe you're talking about yourself, Tsukiyama-san," Uta sighed, his head tilted slightly to the side in amusement. He rolled the eyeball down his fingers and watched it plop down in the puddle of cum on Tsukiyama's suit. "There's your present. I expect payment as normal, your mask should be repaired by tomorrow."

"What!? I still have to pay you for this!?" he hissed, pulling himself up to his feet to be near eye-level to glare at Uta. "Then what was the whole purpose of...that!?"

"You got an eyeball out of this, Tsukiyama-san. I would avoid pressing your luck further." Tsukiyama glared at Uta's back, realizing that the shirt he was wearing revealed the thick black tattoos that sprawled across his back and showed the way his muscles moved as he walked and...

Oh dear.

It seems he'd found a new cure for his boredom.


End file.
